


Darkest Before Dawn

by matchstick_dolly



Series: Matches After Midnight [18]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fuckruary 2021, Fuckruary 2021: Location Location Location, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, POV Chloe, Post-Season/Series 05, Sexual Content, Sweet, Tenderness, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Wingfic, this is so married, written before 5B aired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29444142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchstick_dolly/pseuds/matchstick_dolly
Summary: Oil and feathers do not mix, but maybe the day can be salvaged yet.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Matches After Midnight [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620778
Comments: 29
Kudos: 188





	Darkest Before Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [venividivictorious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/venividivictorious) and [elleflies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleflies/pseuds/elleflies) for their 👀.
> 
> For several [Fuckruary 2021](https://fuckruarychallenge.tumblr.com) prompts: Wing Kink, Chloe's apartment, "I haven't felt touch like this in...a very long time," and "Sometimes I forget that we are literally different species."

" _Dad_ , if I hadn't divested from British Petroleum forty years ago, I would now."

Chloe held back laughter as Lucifer shoved past and strolled inside her apartment with an air that might be best described as prickly. Dressed in a black tank top that was trying to squeeze the life out of him and baby blue jersey shorts that had ridden up his butt crack, he looked nothing like his usual, stylish self. But it was the smack-smack of the too-short, hot pink dollar store flip-flops, and the way he still managed to strut like a peacock in them, that almost did her in. Beggars couldn't be choosers, but Lucifer was especially unlucky when Officer Langley was the only person on scene with a fresh change of clothes.

Locking the door behind them, she tossed her keys into the daisy-shaped ceramic dish Trixie had made in art class. "Can you even feel the mess with them tucked away?"

"Of course I can bloody feel it, Detective." Lucifer's expression was sour beneath his slick, wilted hair. Kicking off the flip-flops in disgust, he rounded the counter and opened the cabinet above her fridge, where he kept several bottles of top shelf liquor. "You don't stop feeling there's a pebble in your shoe simply because you can't see the sole of your foot, do you?"

"Okay, yeah. Sorry. This whole...angel boyfriend thing is still new to me." Her smile was apologetic, but inside she was freaking out a little, as she sometimes did when she was reminded of how, oh, yeah, the dorky love of her life was Beelzebub, wings and all. "What can I do to help?"

Lucifer wriggled his shoulders for what must have been the hundredth time since they'd left the warehouse. "I'll bother with it tomorrow—or pop home tonight, if I can't stand it."

Chloe tilted her head while he poured expensive scotch into cheap glassware. "Why can't I help you?"

He frowned near the lip of the glass. "I just usually see to them myself, that's all." 

Joining him in the kitchen, Chloe narrowly avoided laughing again as she looked down at his shorts and how little was left to the imagination. "You don't have to see to it yourself," she argued. "I can help. That's what girlfriends are for." 

"Well." He cleared his throat. "There's more room in my shower."

"We can go to your place." She felt her cheeks heat as she shrugged. "You'll just need to tell me what to do." She'd taken a first aid class, not an intro to metaphysics. 

His smile was soft as he looked down at her, and she noticed a smudge of grease had lingered at one temple. "Honestly, I've no clue what to do myself. This has never happened before."

"Really?" 

"What, you think I go about, swimming in oil spills?" he scoffed. "Besides, my wings are usually sheathed."

"True."

He only ever unfurled them to protect her—or, okay, that one time when he'd been so horny he couldn't help it. Which was apparently a thing that happened. 

This day's series of unfortunate events hadn't been nearly so lighthearted and had happened so fast her head was still spinning. 

Sidearm raised as she'd faced their escaped suspect on a steel catwalk, Chloe had been unprepared for the revolver the man yanked from his pocket. She'd made the stupid assumption that they'd confiscated all his weapons before he got away. 

On the ground floor of the warehouse, Lucifer's reaction to the threat had been immediate—a hard snap of his wings exploding into existence. But in the moment he'd leapt to take flight, the suspect's accomplice had appeared on an adjacent catwalk and shoved an open barrel of oil on the Lightbringer of God, a mere moment before falling into a divinity-shocked stupor. 

Chloe fired first, while Lucifer let out an indignant, oil-garbled curse and sank to the concrete like a sack of potatoes. A very black, slimy, and feathery sack of potatoes.

What mattered was they'd made it out alive, with one murder suspect in custody and another in a body bag. But for Chloe, bad days never ended until all that could be made right had been. Lucifer clearly wanted to crawl out of his skin. It wasn't like she could ignore it.

"Let me help you," she pled one last time. "We'll do it here. Get it over and done with."

She could tell the moment he cracked. " _Fine_. But when this takes hours, don't say I didn't warn you."

Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she ran a search on how to remove oil from feathers. An article by The Audubon Society appeared as the first result and Chloe tapped on to it without question. At the top of the page, a brown-feathered, long-necked bird was swaddled in towels held by blue-gloved hands. The creature stared with wide-eyed, bird-brained alarm at its predicament.

Chloe read the article's title aloud with a snicker, "'How to De-Oil a Bird.'" 

"I am _not_ a bird, Detective." Lucifer craned over her shoulder, and she scrunched her nose as she caught a whiff of him. 

"Yeah, but you're...not _not_ one, either. Kinda?"

"Taxonomists would like to have a word with you."

"Something tells me they'd rather have a word with _you_." She rolled her eyes and continued reading. "It says here to use dish soap." She nodded her chin toward the bottle of blue Dawn dishwashing liquid next to her kitchen sink. "We've got that. They say to wash the feathers, then hose down and dry. That doesn't sound too hard. We can do that." 

"They also mention 'specially trained workers,'" he said in the haughty tone a snob might use to say his steak was overcooked. 

"Yeah, well, you've got me instead." Snatching the bottle of dish soap from the sink, she grabbed one of Lucifer's hands and tugged. "Come on, you silly goose."

He sighed, even as he followed. 

* * *

Chloe flicked on the light to her small bathroom and tried not to freak out about the mess she'd left on the counter from getting ready at the start of the day. Her dirty little secret in life was that only Trixie's room and the main areas of her home ever stayed clean. Otherwise, she lived out of piles of unfolded clothes and used makeup brushes that even she was shocked hadn't given her an eye infection yet. Lucifer didn't judge—much—but he did tend to put things away in the wrong places when she wasn't looking. 

She spun on her heel, hoping to distract him. "Okay. Time for you to strip," she announced, before the uncertain expression on his face registered. He wasn't paying any attention to her chaotic clutter. 

Wedged into clothes that didn't fit, his black hair a weirdly-kinked helmet on his head, he looked less like a son of God, and more like a lost boy—though maybe the distinction between those things was small. He reminded her of a time when Trixie was four years old, covered in mud after a rare Californian downpour, and convinced she was in trouble for it. 

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yes, of course." Nodding, he took the bottle of Dawn from her hand and focused on its design, one thumb rubbing at the edge of the label. "But maybe… There's really no reason I can't do this alone, Detective."

"Except that some of your feathers are pretty hard for you to reach?"

"Oh, I'll just dislocate my wings for a bit."

The words were like static in her brain. Realizing her mouth had dropped open, Chloe snapped it shut with effort. There was always so much to unpack with Lucifer, but really it wasn't worth getting into, no matter how much she sometimes wanted to sit him down and psychoanalyze him. He had Linda for that, even if the ethics between them were messy again now that she was basically his sister-in-law. Chloe had decided sometime ago that her own job was simply to love him.

"That sounds painful," she said in a gentle voice, "and maybe like something _I_ wouldn't like you to do."

"It's no trouble, really. They pop right back in, good as new."

Wingless as she was, the thought of dislocating _anything_ made her shudder. "What's this actually about?" she asked. "It's not like I haven't seen your wings before." And done other things with them. She didn't dream of horns these days. 

He set the soap bottle next to the uncapped tube of toothpaste on her vanity. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in this small bathroom with her. 

"This is different, Detective."

"Why?"

"Cleaning...grooming, that's-that's _very_ intimate."

Jealousy flared unexpectedly in her as she imagined Maze cleaning him in the past. She shoved the feeling aside as best she could. " _We're_ intimate."

"Yes, but—"

"No buts. We're partners." She stepped closer and took his hands. "And I love you." 

"And I you," he replied, with the intense sincerity he often put into loving words, now that he understood their importance to her. To them.

"I know you're more than your wings, Lucifer," Chloe said, while squeezing his fingers. "And your devil face. All of it."

He exhaled softly, as if letting go of some old pain, and she smiled. 

"So...you're going to get cleaned up and I'm going to help you. And it's going to be okay." Releasing him once he nodded, she reached into her shower and turned on the hot water. Looking back at him with a grin, she said once more, "Now strip."

Lucifer's eyes crinkled at their corners with his amusement. He never stayed in a bad mood for long. Undressing with his usual cheeky humor, he stuffed the stained gym clothes into the small, turquoise trash can she kept tucked beside the toilet. Chloe had no doubt Langley would be gifted a whole new collection of athletic wear by the end of the week. The Devil couldn't abide being indebted to another. 

The geometric pattern of her shower curtain scrunched together as Lucifer dragged it aside and climbed into the tub basin. 

"Are you coming?" he asked with a slight waggle of his brows.

He was trying to be cute, but Chloe eyed the situation with sudden skepticism. Maybe they _should_ have gone back to the penthouse. At the best of times, her shower was a tight fit for the both of them, though they made it work. But with wings added to the mix… She looked at her walls and kissed her security deposit goodbye—as if she hadn't kissed it goodbye ages ago.

"Uh, you wash—you know, your skin—first," she said, and wandered out of the bathroom without further comment.

Stripping down to her black thong, she poked around her closet until she found the oldest, saddest t-shirt she owned. It was the shirt she wore while doing deep cleans or when Trixie wanted to play with paint that wouldn't likely wash out. The old, heather grey police academy shirt hadn't even been hers or Dan's, but her father's, meaning it was old enough to drink. Depressing. She shrugged into it and enjoyed the way the worn cotton felt on her skin, even if it was covered in several mysterious stains and sported two small holes near her right hip.

She returned to the warm humidity of the bathroom, crammed the worst of her mess into drawers, and leaned against the counter. A sliver of Lucifer's skin was still visible at the edge of the shower curtain. Steam rolled off the ridges of his abs and the slope of his hips and cock. Chloe blinked and averted her eyes. Now wasn't the time.

"Um, let me know when you're ready for me to help."

Lucifer poked his head around the shower curtain, only to gawk at her. "What on _earth_ are you wearing?"

"Battle gear," she joked with a shrug. "I figured it'd be better for me to shower after helping you, considering…"

"Considering I'm walking fossil fuel? Perhaps." 

After washing his hair several more times, he finally turned off the water and declared himself clean. Pulling back the shower curtain, he stood in all his naked glory with hands held out to either side of himself. He liked water so hot that steam continued to roll off him.

"How do you want me?" 

They'd been together for some months now. His casual nudity and propositioning were no longer surprising, and she probably gave as good as she got. Her eyes dipped below his waist, to where the beginning of an erection was pulling his cock away from his legs.

"You're turned on right now?" Not that she hadn't been thinking about it.

"What can I say?" he purred, eyes trailing down her body. "You know I've always been a leg man, Detective."

Chloe glanced at her legs beneath the old t-shirt. "Let's stay focused." 

"If you say so."

She knew his game. Whatever hangups he had about doing this with her, he'd hide behind sex if she let him.

Grabbing several navy-colored towels from a shelf, she spread them on the floor in front of the bath. 

"I think… Is it, um…" She wondered if she was about to ask an inappropriate question. "Can you take out _one_ wing at a time?"

Lucifer laughed. "Yes, technically. They are individual limbs, Detective."

She boggled for a moment as she took in the new information. "Okay, then. Well, turn around and sit on the edge of the tub."

"I'm going to get oil everywhere."

"It's fine. It'll come out." Maybe.

After primly folding a towel to sit on, Lucifer balanced atop it on the edge of the basin. Even without his wings unfurled, he looked big and out of place here. His hands curled over his knees. 

"Okay." Chloe shuffled back until the backs of her legs hit the grey cabinets below her sink. "Can you take out a wing?"

He hesitated, and she held her breath. This _did_ feel weirdly more intimate than she'd expected it would. It made her realize she'd never really watched an unfurling from this angle, not closely. 

When it happened, Chloe knew she would take the moment to her grave, to Heaven or Hell. She marveled at the split second his right shoulder blade seemed almost to lift and detach from his muscles. Had she blinked, she might have missed it. What should have been the white of his feathers, but was instead a dirty, matted grey mass, burst into existence a second later. The wing unfolded, spreading wide and to the right, before flopping to the floor and drooping close to his back. He groaned as his right shoulder pulled downward with the weight, which, along with the dirtied feathers, made him look unnervingly like Michael.

"Oh, Lucifer…" 

He chuckled humorlessly. "Surely we've seen worse from me, Detective."

"Not worse," she said, knowing they were both thinking of his red, clawed wings, "but...I'm hoping we have enough soap."

With only one wing exposed, his back looked strange, as if he were an unfinished painting. She gazed at the down closest to his skin, all the way across the slope of his wilted wing, and to the twisted, oily feathers poking across the threshold to her bedroom. Every feather was sticky and bedraggled. Where to begin?

She took the time to fill a cleaning bucket with soapy water before moving close to his back with a washcloth that had no hope of surviving the night. Lucifer hissed as she touched it to downy feathers.

"Sorry," she breathed, jerking the cloth away. A memory from long ago resurfaced, from a time when they were differently scarred people. "Did that hurt?"

"Just surprised me," he answered in a cheery tone she suspected didn't match his actual feelings. "I haven't felt touch like this...in a very long time."

"Not even with Maze?" she asked in a tone that gave away her deep curiosity and maybe a little of her jealousy. She ran a soothing hand down his spine as she returned with the washcloth. He shuddered a little, wing twitching beside them, but soon he settled.

"Maze and I didn't have that kind of relationship. She merely carved the turkey, once upon a time."

Chloe cringed but said nothing. She had a lot of questions about his old relationship with Mazikeen "Smith," but Lucifer could be circumspect at the best of times about his past. She knew it'd been complicated, though—inappropriate, maybe. Sometimes friendly, even if it wasn't anymore. 

Soapy water dripped down the stubby feathers which lay matted against his skin. The more she washed him, the more discolored runnels trailed over the long, besmirched feathers of his lower back, soaking the towel beneath her feet on the floor.

Lucifer slumped as he sighed. "This is going to take ages, Detective."

Leaning close, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss beneath his right ear. "Do you have somewhere else to be?" she teased.

"No, but I can think of other things I'd rather be doing." 

"Hmm." She rinsed out the cloth in the bucket to return with fresher water and bubbles. "Not me."

"No?" He huffed. "This isn't exactly our usual Netflix and chill."

"That's okay. I like taking care of you," she said, working at a particularly stubborn clump of feathers. "I don't get to do it much." So often, he took care of her, usually in subtle ways she didn't even know she needed. 

He shivered suddenly. "Your water's bloody freezing."

Chloe frowned. It wasn't. It was so hot, in fact, that it burned her fingertips each time she dipped into the bucket. She'd read that it was hypothermia that actually harmed oiled-up birds, but she hadn't thought it could apply to angels. He really _was_ just a giant bird.

Knowing Lucifer would never hear of it if she expressed her thoughts, she draped the rag on the bucket and retrieved her bathrobe from a nearby wall hook. 

"Here." She passed the heavy cotton around his left. 

Taking it, he stuffed his arms backwards into the sleeves and dragged it close to his body, up to his chin. Neither of them commented on the irony of the pattern of pale purple cranes on the white terrycloth. 

They quieted as she continued to work, until the only sounds were the trickle of water when she wrung out the cloth and the splash when she emptied the bucket in the tub to refill it. 

When his down and what passed for tail feathers were finally restored to something resembling white, she combed her fingers through the small, wet feathers near his shoulder blade. She marveled at how the barbs rose and flexed around her fingers, how the vanes tickled. Lucifer's head fell forward as he let out a pleased groan.

"Feel good?" Chloe chuckled, scratching her fingers deeper, to the warm flesh beneath. 

"You've no idea."

She really didn't. "Sometimes I forget that we're literally different species."

"Does that bother you?" he asked softly.

"Never."

He was still Lucifer, whatever he looked like. But that didn't change how sharing moments like these with him made her feel like she was floating through a fantastical dream. How else would someone like her see and touch divinity? Of course, there was the whole miracle... _thing_ , but she tried not to think about that. Tried, instead, to embrace wonder without question.

A meditative flow overcame her while she worked her way down the rest of his wing. Time didn't matter as she scrubbed each feather, her fingers growing pruned, her bare knees aching as she knelt on the floor beside his weighed-down limb. Oil smudges were everywhere—staining wet towels, marking her forearms, further discoloring the old police academy shirt. None of it mattered.

Eventually she dragged the cloth and her fingers down the feathers of his wingtip. It twitched and moved as she cleaned it, and she grinned, sensing his pleasure.

Chloe rose and emptied the bucket of its murky water one last time. The grey liquid sloshed beside Lucifer's feet and swirled down the drain. When she turned to ask if he was ready for her to clean his other wing, she found him watching her intently. Their faces were close, and she gave into temptation, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before backing away. 

"Keep going?" she asked.

"Only if you don't mind."

"I don't."

Much later, when she held the last of his unclean feathers in hand, a deep, aching sadness squeezed at her chest. Maybe she'd stared at divinity for too long, or maybe she simply feared she wouldn't see this side of him again, not like this. It was selfish, wanting him to be as vulnerable as she felt, but she craved it sometimes.

Hard work finished, Chloe stood and wiped her hands on her t-shirt. "Okay, let's get you rinsed off, and then we'll blow dry."

Lucifer nodded and yawned, stretching his robed arms before him. Chloe danced backward as he stood and drew his wings close to his body, otherworldly limbs folding in like an accordion. He stepped onto the messy towels outside the tub, and the purple cranes on her bathrobe flew as the terrycloth swayed across his knees. Turning sideways, he inspected a wing in her mirror, a small, bemused smile lighting his face as he reached back and ran a hand through his feathers.

"Thank you," he said softly. He looked at her then, and his brows hiked high on his forehead before he barked a laugh. "You're quite the grease monkey, aren't you?"

"Am I?" Swiping hair from her forehead, she also turned toward the mirror. Her eyes widened. No part of her had been spared. There was oil even on her neck and face. "This isn't healthy," she grumbled, reaching for the face wash she kept by the sink.

Behind her, Lucifer yawned again and strained his wings high, until his wings smashed into the ceiling, his wingspan too significant for such a small space. Feathers rustled with his movement, shaking off tiny droplets of water. Chloe froze and watched him in the mirror. If he'd looked big and out of place sitting at the edge of her shower earlier, he definitely looked big and out of place with his wings stretched high in her cramped bathroom. The ivory vanes were still a far cry from their usual glory, but her throat went dry as some primitive part of her faced his presence. He was a son of God, the Lightbringer, and he was hers. 

"Detective?"

"You're beautiful," she breathed, feeling almost overwhelmed by it.

"Well." His wings settled against his back in a relaxed fold as he grinned at her reflection in the mirror. "Certainly not too shabby after a rubdown."

"No," she agreed. 

He tilted his head. Quirking a brow, he curled a wing around his side and reached it across the small distance between them. Chloe looked down and watched pale feathers skim like a whisper along her right calf, and higher, to her oil-smudged thigh and over the curve of her ass. Her heart hammered as they bumped against the edge of her old t-shirt, shifting the soft, worn cotton across her skin. It didn't seem real, even as few things had ever felt more visceral. 

"Lucifer…"

"Yes?" The end of his wing wrapped around her side, like a hand molding to her shape. Because it was a hand, an arm, a living extension of a living man and creature. 

She touched the damp feathers lying against her stomach. "You need to wash off."

"That can wait, Detective."

Wings were so beautiful, the feathers so velvety in hand, that they could appear delicate, but it was an illusion. God worked in mysterious ways, blessing vampire queens and molding His children into war machines. Smirking, Lucifer pulled, and there was nothing for Chloe to do but follow where his strength took her. She stumbled back, laughing, and collided with his chest. Low on her back, she felt the scruffy terrycloth of her bathrobe and the hardness of his arousal. They looked at each other in the mirror with heated expressions. Turning beneath the dewy blanket of his wing, she forced a stern glare to her face.

"We're getting oil on my bathrobe."

"I'll get you a new one."

"I like this one."

Sighing indulgently, he pulled back enough to let it slip from his arms. It slid down his sculpted body, catching on the swell of his erection before dropping and pooling atop their feet and the definitely unclean towels. Chloe rolled her eyes. 

"Problem solved," he said, with a cheeky grin. 

"You aren't cold anymore?" she teased.

He looked down at his rising cock. "I don't bloody seem it, do I?" He fit his hands to the curves of her waist and pulled her closer, while his other wing arched and enfolded around her. It made her feel invincible. "Now...I think I owe you for all these services rendered." 

Chloe held back a smile. He really couldn't abide a debt, even an imagined one. But she played along. "Maybe a little." Wrapping a leg around one of his, she trailed her knee up as he watched her. One hand released her waist and clasped under her thigh. "How're you gonna pay me back?" she asked, a little breathlessly.

Rather than replying, Lucifer pressed forward in a bruising kiss that smelled of her shampoo and remnants of oil. He groaned and squeezed her flesh as his tongue curled around hers. Chloe wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss with him. She loved when he was like this, as wild and hungry for her as she was for him.

As Chloe stretched up on her foot, the towel bunched and slid beneath her toes. She gasped as she lost her balance and fell against waiting wings. Laughing, Lucifer caught hold of her other leg, hiking it up to lift her with ease. 

He was everywhere, in the insistence of his mouth, the grip of his fingers, the twitch of his feathers, and the grind of his cock between her thighs. They laughed together as he staggered over her ruined bathrobe and carried her to the bathroom vanity. His wings unfolded behind her, and Chloe sucked in a shocked breath as cold granite met her ass.

"Good thing you cleaned your counter," he quipped, rubbing his cock against the wet seam of her panties.

"Shut up," she groaned, sliding her heels up the backs of his thighs to his waist. She locked her ankles beneath a veil of feathers that tickled the soles of her feet.

Chuckling, Lucifer wrapped fingers in her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her throat. She whimpered and grabbed hold of the arcs of his wings as he dragged his teeth along her skin and palmed her breasts through her worn shirt. Feathers, flesh, and bone moved beneath her fingers. He was so alive, so real, and she was taken into his world, flying without ever leaving the ground. 

Moving his hips to one side, Lucifer stuffed a hand between them. He rubbed her clit through clinging cotton with a maddening and unerring accuracy. It was too much and not enough after watching steam roll off his skin, after hours dedicated to a labor of love. 

She took hold of his cock, enjoying the smooth movement of skin as he jerked his hips and pumped into her hand. "Just fuck me," Chloe gasped, her forehead dropping to his shoulder. She'd never been a patient lover, and he often teased her for it, but today was not one of those days.

Lucifer pulled back to look at her, a pleased grin on his handsome, silly face. "Right, then," he said, tucking fingers beneath the elastic edge of her underwear. He yanked the crotch aside and breathed a strangled moan into her mouth when his fingers glided between slick lips. 

Aching for him, she rolled her hips, restlessly seeking the hardness she held. He pulled her hand away from him, directing it to his shoulder. 

When she felt the press of his cock and the wet stretch of their joining, she grabbed his wings with both hands and dug her fingers past his feathers. She pulled at him with her heels, but with a look of determination, he remained just barely inside of her. He rested his hands on the counter, and they stared at each other for a long moment, caught in limbo.

"Lucifer—"

He thrust forward, and Chloe cried out on a startled laugh, her head falling back.

"Yes, Detective?" he laughed with her. 

They moved together, rough and needy, breathing loudly in the tight space. Chloe held to Lucifer's wings as they climbed high above his body, feathers quivering against her fingers, brushing against the walls, and pressing against the ceiling once more.

"Touch me," she pled against his mouth several minutes later, and his thumb circled over her swollen clit.

It was all she needed. Climax crashed into her suddenly, radiating low in her stomach, to her thighs, which trembled. She scrabbled against him, ankles loosening, legs shaking, as she contracted around the thick hardness sliding in and out of her body. 

"I love you," Lucifer gasped, cheek falling against her right temple. With one final thrust, he spilled into her, his hips pressed hard to hers, his head resting in the crook of her neck, where he planted soft, open-mouthed kisses.

Letting her hands slide slowly from his relaxing wings, Chloe instead held his head to her. She whispered love against his hair as he softened within her and their breathing calmed. 

"I don't know what the birds are harping on about," Lucifer commented several moments later, his voice a soothing rumble. "I've no regrets about this oil spill." 

She snorted and lazily reached an arm out to tug on a long feather, which twitched in protest. "Let's rinse off. I feel disgusting." She looked at his chest and sighed. "And you're gross again, too."

They separated, and Chloe slid from the counter. She removed her clothes and stretched, feeling the dampness on her thighs and the pull of well-used muscles. Lucifer turned the shower on, his wings relaxed at his back. He glanced at the undercarriage of one of them and touched the feathers, as if still amazed to see how much cleaner they already were. He looked back at her, and she knew that look. It was the one he gave her whenever she surprised him with affection. Those few times she rendered him truly speechless.

Chloe grabbed his hand and squeezed. He didn't need to say anything.

"Come on," she said, and stepped into the warm spray of the shower. 

Joining her, Lucifer pulled her to his chest and enfolded her in his wings. She leaned against him and watched the oil slough off them. Together, they turned the water grey.


End file.
